But Not For Me
by Whatimeantwas
Summary: A perfectly ordinary older woman meets the spectacular Dr. Carlisle Cullen and falls in love. Understandable, but why does he exhibit a powerful attraction for her? This is a big problem for two moral beings.


**A/N: Twilight and all its minions belong to Stephanie Meyer, I have just borrowed them for my own nefarious purposes, especially the spectacular Carlisle.**

**Though this first chapter is not written with mature content the following chapters are, so if you don't want to read a story full of sexual content, choosing another story would be best.**

**This story also contains Rob Pattinson who is conveniently one of a set of identical sextuplets. I thought it best to avoid totally exhausting him. It does not contain Esme or Rosalie: because they were inconvenient I left them out for the most part. Most of the women characters in this fantasy are represented by my friends on Twifans for whom it was originally written. I hope that everyone who reads it now enjoys it.  
**

**But Not For Me**

Chapter 1~Meeting Carlisle  
Mary

Ordinarily, I am the sort of person who will do anything rather than go to a doctor. Doctors are usually too busy to really pay attention to what you tell them about how you feel and without that they are guessing. Sure it's educated guessing but it is still guessing. This time I had no choice, I had strep throat and I knew it. The fever and the pain would not allow rest; I couldn't swallow to drink the fluids needed, so off to the emergency room for some antibiotics I went. It was the middle of the night and the waiting area was deserted. A tired looking security guard sat in his corner, watched four different screens and played with his cell phone. I checked in at the desk where a much too perky nurse took my history and told me to wait in one of the grungy looking chairs in the waiting area. The wait was not long. An assistant waved me through a door and into an exam room.  
"Wait here, the Doctor will be in shortly." she left. I looked around at the jars of cotton and tongue depressors and sat on the crinkly white paper that was supposed to offer protection to patients. I did not feel protected. Anyway, it would take more than paper to protect me. Let's just say I was in a bad mood. I sat there in that tiny room bitching to myself about waiting and pain and paper and in general working myself into a fit.

Then he walked in.

To say he was beautiful was to understate the matter considerably. He was blond, and though I generally don't like blond hair on men, his was the sort of blond that was not washed out but a rich, robust gold. He was slim, straight and tall. His shoulders were broad and muscular, not overly so, but one could tell even though a lab coat covered them, that they were toned and hard. He had small feet for a man and large long-fingered hands and he was young, not more than thirty at most, but despite all that the reason I looked so carefully at him, even while in pain, was his eyes.

They were a deep butterscotch in color and two of the kindest eyes I had ever looked into. He stopped just inside the door and stared at me with those eyes. I could not look away. As long as he continued to look, I would be bound to look back. I forgot my pain and pretty much everything else including my name, where I lived, why I had come. I couldn't speak or move. I almost didn't breathe. I just tried to drown in the buttery depths of his eyes. He shook himself just slightly, withdrew his gaze and I was free when I did not want to be. He turned his attention to my chart.

"What seems to be the trouble?" He asked in a rich smoky voice, not looking at me.  
"I have strep throat," I told him. He took one of his hands and felt the glands beneath my chin, his hand pressed them gently and then trailed down my throat to my shoulder before he withdrew it. His hand had been ice cold, but where he had touched me it felt as if I was on fire. He stood looking at me for a moment and then seemed to collect himself.  
"I'll be right back, please take off your upper garments." He left without looking back and a nurse came in to give me one of those paper robe things telling me to remove my clothes and put it on.  
"Look," I croaked, "Why do I have to disrobe, I know I have strep, I've had it before. I just need some medicine and I'll be fine in a few days." She eyed me.  
"Doctor Cullen _has_ to examine you before he can prescribe anything for you, so just go ahead, get your clothes off and put this on so we can get you fixed up." She told me, not unkindly, and then left closing the door. I did as I was told. It was a few minutes and then the door opened again, a tech came in took a swab from my throat, took my pulse, BP and temp and left. I continued to be miserable but somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was exulting. He's coming right back! The thought of it suffused me with a pure joy that I was barely able to contain when he did return. It was the same as the first entrance. He stood just inside the door and our eyes locked. The door hit his back and he dropped his eyes then and moved so the nurse could enter the room. She stood beside me and he approached me. He glanced at her and asked.  
"Throat Culture?"  
"Yes, Doctor." He turned his attention to me. His cold fingers sought my pulse. I could have told him if he had asked, that the simple act if his taking it was causing it to race. He left that and placed his hand under my chin once more and again let his hand trail along my neck to my shoulder. The nurse shifted her weight and cleared her throat. He withdrew his hand. It was shaking just the slightest bit.  
"Please lower your gown." I lowered it to just above my nipples and he placed the pickup of an icy stethoscope on me and asked me to breath deeply. He held the pickup in place with his whole hand placed flat on my chest and moved it to a new location by rubbing it along my body. The nurse cleared her throat again and he switched to my back but used the same method. It was the same as when he had touched my neck; his hand lit a fire wherever it touched. My breathing was speeding up. As I tried to pull myself together, he turned abruptly and was gone. The nurse stood irresolutely for a moment, looked at me, puzzled, and left.  
I am not a young woman, 61 my last birthday, and I have been alone a while. I am not a beauty, I am heavier than I should be and my face is a face shaped type of face, nothing at all special but I know when someone is attracted to me. Dr. Cullen most definitely was. I smiled to myself in spite of the puzzle it was for me because now that he was not present, my mind was busily trying to come to terms with the fact that he was half my age and so stunning it was like his face and form were burned into my retinas.  
"Half my age at most." I thought to myself. "Good, lord, Mary." I took refuge in my usual methods when faced with this sort of dilemma: I reminded myself that I had only looked. That is all I would do. There was no harm in just looking. The nurse came back and told me to dress and handed me two prescriptions explaining that one was for pain and the other the antibiotic. When she left, I dressed quickly and went to the cashier to settle up.  
"Doctor Cullen would like to see you in 10 days. Here is his card, just call his nurse and make an appointment." she said handing it to me. I did not see him. When I had paid the outrageous bill, I left to recover my health and my equilibrium. After a few days of antibiotics, I felt better and returned to my normal pursuits but always, in the back of my mind was Dr. Cullen's face, his voice, his hand on my throat. I tried not to think about him but it would hit me at the oddest moments until I felt I was being stalked by my own thoughts. I was dreaming of him, too. I would wake covered in sweat, my heart racing, with the vision of his smile and his voice still in my head. This would not do.  
I resolved to cancel the appointment, but as it approached I decided that there were probably several doctors in his office and I may not even see him. I looked at the engraved card, feeling the raised letters of his name as they etched themselves into my thumb. The card held only his name, Carlisle John Cullen, M.D. Carlisle, what a lovely, old fashioned name, I could not recall ever meeting another Carlisle. No, I decided again, I would keep the appointment and everything would be okay. Somewhere inside my inner voice rejoiced, I ignored it; stupid voice.

My appointment was over. I had survived! My body burned but this time I was ashamed. In the exam room Dr. Cullen touched me as he had before and when the exam was over, he asked me to see him in his office. I waited until I was called. When I entered a half hour later He looked up and with his eyes fixed on mine invited me to sit. He sat behind a large mahogany desk burnished to a rich glow. Behind him on the matching credenza was a computer and a group of pictures, one of a beautiful woman with chestnut hair in a frame by herself and a group of smaller pictures of younger people all with the same golden eyes. The pictures were of the most stunning people I had ever seen and would have distracted me except I had Dr. Cullen right here in front of me. I looked at his hands laid on the desk and noted the wedding ring. Yes, of course, he was married. I looked at the picture of the beautiful woman again. For some reason I was abruptly sunk in gloom—I felt like wailing uncontrollably. It must have shown in my face because he reached across the desk to take my hand as it rested on the edge.  
"Don't worry, I didn't ask you to see me because there is something wrong." he reassured me. He did not relinquish my hand.  
"I have reviewed your file and it has been over two years since you had a mammogram or a pap test, I wish you to bring your preventative testing up to date and you should have a full physical." His hand still held mine, the thumb rubbed back and forth which, I suppose, was meant to be comforting but it was not. It was his left hand complete with ring. I tugged my hand to pull it from his; he did not release it immediately. I looked at him in shock and he let go. I acknowledged that I needed these tests and he told me to stop at the desk for referrals.  
"I will see you two weeks hence." He said but he did not rise. I rose and walked out . I heard the faint snick of the lock when the door was closed. Who says hence anymore? The cashier made the appointment for me and gave me a little card. In the next two weeks I was squashed and prodded scraped and humiliated all in the name of health and the day of my appointment loomed. Dr Cullen's office called to remind me the day before it; It was a live person, too. I am a fool. I dressed especially nice and put on perfume before the appointment. All the tests were completed and I was pretty sure that I was healthy and non of them would return any scary results. I was not shown to an exam room when I was called. I was escorted to Dr. Cullen's office. He greeted me with a smile and offered me a chair which was a very good thing since the smile seemed to take the starch out of my legs. I kind of flumped into the chair gracelessly.  
"I have the results of your tests and I would like to get a chest x-ray. Do you smoke?" he asked.  
"No, Doctor, not any more, I quit years ago." I was starting to get anxious. He got up and came around his desk and placed his hand on my shoulder and looking down into my eyes said,

"Please don't be distressed, I am merely being thoroughgoing. I am desirous of eliminating any untoward possibility." Jayz, the words he used, and the voice he said them in. His hand on my shoulder squeezed me gently and fire forged its way into my torso. I dragged my eyes away from his and tried to shift away from his hand but that's not how it worked out.I shocked myself and him by laying my cheek against his hand on my shoulder.

"O my Good Lord, I have lost my mind." I thought to myself. I straitened and could not look at him, I was so embarrassed. His hand did not leave me. It continued to knead the muscles of my shoulder. I could almost feel his quiet, fixed gaze. The silence became awkward. I refused to look or speak. I did not know this man. I had only known of him for 2 short months and thoughts of him were taking over every waking moment. I shook my head and he withdrew his hand and walked slowly back around his desk to seat himself.  
"No cause for concern." he said so low I almost did not hear him.  
"Please make an appointment for the full physical as soon as you can conveniently do so. Do you have any questions?" I told him I didn't as coherently as I could and rose on my ever shaky knees going to the door. He was there beside me and placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me gently. Electricity went through me and it was all I could do not to lean into his hand. I was ashamed; he was a married man. I blushed and left his office. I felt I was the cynosure of all those in his office. It seemed each and everyone of them was in the hall or hanging around the desk. And... there was someone else there waiting: the beautiful chestnut-haired woman in the large picture in Dr. Cullen's office, his wife. She was much lovelier than the picture showed her to be. When she saw me exit her husband's office she went to the door, knocked lightly and entered. Everyone went back to watching me. I paid my bill and left as soon as I could manage. Weeks passed and I had the x-ray and had received a thorough physical from another doctor in Dr Cullen's office. I had known Dr, Cullen for 3 months and I had given up.

I admitted to myself that I was totally devoted to him. but I was determined to resist him (as if he would ever _really_ want and old lady like me when he had a beauty like his wife). I told myself that I could look but I would not touch. I knew myself, I knew I had the strength to resist my feelings and keep from making a fool of myself. This would be my final appointment with him. I would find another doctor. I didn't see the need for putting myself through the pain of longing for him through contact in his office. This would be my farewell visit.  
I was shown into his office again instead of an exam room. He asked me to sit. His son Edward was with him. What a beautiful, well-mannered teenager he was. Incredibly handsome, and he had his father's eye color. Speaking of which, I shifted my eyes to Dr, Cullen and tried to memorize his face and his body. He wasn't wearing a lab coat today so his strong wide shoulders were masked only by a thin dress shirt. I drank them in and committed them to memory, too. I was looking at his capable hands when he said something to Edward, excused himself and left to walk his son out. I sat in glum self-torture, trying to maintain at least a semblance of normalcy just until the visit was over, when He came back in alone. His face was glowing and he carried a kind of secret joy with him that he had not had when he left. I was delighted for his happiness.  
He circled his desk and sat down.  
"Your tests all came back negative. You are perfectly healthy, my dear." I thrilled at the endearment. He smiled. My eyes filled with tears and I lowered them so he wouldn't see. I was able to keep tears from coursing down my face, but only just. I felt him standing beside me and his cold, gentle hand cup my chin and turn my face up toward him. The pain in my heart grew in proportion to his gentle touch.  
"Che cosa è errato?" he asked in Italian, how did he know I would understand? A tear escaped from my eye and made its way onto my mouth. I was at my limit.  
"Thank you, Doctor, for that news," I said in a shaky voice, "This will be my last visit as I am moving away, but I want to thank you for your excellent care." I rose intending to make my way to the door and out before I started bawling but he stood in my way.  
"Come to my arms, dear one." He said taking me in those arms and holding me fast to his chest.  
"State guidandolo pazzo!" He whispered, my ear so close to his beautiful full mouth. Oh. God, I wanted to sink into those arms and give myself over to whatever bliss could be had just for now, but I could not. The thought of the betrayal stopped me, but the torture was not over. He lowered his mouth to my cheek and his arms tightened as he seemed to be breathing me in. He placed a soft kiss on my cheek and one on my neck. I almost fainted. I pushed against him while I still had the strength and the resolve  
"No, No, my treasure." He whispered. "You belong here."  
"Another belongs here , Doctor Cullen." I answered him as firmly as I could. "Ciò non è di destra" I added. I pushed again against his chest but I might have been pushing a brick wall. Instead of freeing me, he lowered his mouth to mine and gently kissed me. I hungered for it as he withdrew.  
"Bacilo prego, Mary. Dia me" He whispered huskily and lowered his mouth again, this time in a passionate, thorough kiss full of longing. His tongue played with mine; I could not pull my mouth from his. I began to cry, huge ugly sobs against his mouth because I knew that no matter how much I wanted him I could not have him and remain true to my ideals. I dropped my treacherous arms to my sides when all they really wanted to do was hold him to me. At first, he only continued to kiss me, trying everything he could to get me to kiss him back. My heart was breaking and, oh, I wanted to, I wanted to, just this once, but I didn't. I wouldn't betray myself so, nor him. I continued to sob and he stopped, finally. He did not release me, We just stood there while I sobbed and he pressed me close to him. I thought to myself, is loving someone really worth this pain?  
"please release me." I said  
"Tengalo, il mio tesoro." He replied, kissing my neck and stroking my back. I said between sobs,  
This is crazy. I am old enough to be your mother. You will forget all about me in no time, Sir"  
"No, MAI, il mio amore." he breathed, passionately, lowering his mouth to mine again. His arms tightened and he this kiss was not gentle. He kissed me the way I had always wanted to be kissed: out of control, hungrily, as if the need was too much and must be expressed. I almost succumbed to it, I would have but i began to feel the pain of the force of his hold on me and of his bruising lips. I struggled ineffectually, my sobs becoming louder and more pronounced until I made a sound of pain. He raised his mouth to look at my face. I know he saw the pain on it.  
"Oh no, my dear. Please forgive me,; I have caused you pain. I am so sorry. " His arms loosened slightly.  
"You must let me go, Doctor Cullen, please." I begged.  
"Il mio nome è Carlisle." He corrected me. "Non posso lasciarlo andare. So che appartenete con me." He told me simply.  
"No Sir, I do not belong with you. You must let me go." I said as firmly as I was able. I looked into his eyes and saw that he believed me but he tried once more.  
"Tengalo, il mio tesoro, I know that you want me too." I remained silent and he regarded me seriously. Then he pulled out his big guns.  
"Ti amo con tutta la mia anima; Amilo prego. Prego dicami che lo amiate anche." He begged and I was almost undone. My heart was already breaking, so I told him the truth for the last time.  
"I do love you, with all of my heart. It does not make sense, I know and this is killing me, but you are not mine and I must leave." I pushed against his hard chest.  
"I can't seem to let you go." he said, but he seemed to realize I was right " Aiutilo, caro"  
"Please, Please..."I begged and began to cry again, great wracking sobs that were a window into the pain that tortured my heart. I put my head on his chest and gave myself over to the agony and he held me rocking me from side to side, comforting and whispering,  
"Shh, shh." until I quieted. then he did let me go, went to his chair, sat and stared at me, his face a mask of pain. If my heart was breaking, it looked like his was as well. I took a Kleenex from the box on his desk and blotted my face. I knew I had to leave and soon, before my resolve broke and leaving was no longer possible. It would be with a blotched face and eyes red from crying. I took another Kleenex and made further repairs, hoping that anyone who saw me would just assume I was dying; it felt like I was. His eyes never left my face as I rose, looked at him longingly and left without a word.


End file.
